


though under earth and throneless now I be

by nigiyakapepper



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018), Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Ensemble Cast, Gen, Identity Reveal, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nigiyakapepper/pseuds/nigiyakapepper
Summary: Hellas is a shade Persephone never thought she'd see in the Underworld. Her arrival sparks questions from the members of the House of Hades, and what will become of the land that all shades have once called their home.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	though under earth and throneless now I be

**Author's Note:**

> uh...enjoy? very self-indulgent, this thing ✌😆

She is a shade they never thought they’d see in the Underworld.

When Persephone was young and her consciousness of the land and all its growing things had yet to fully saturate her awareness, she thought the lady was a goddess. It wasn’t clear what her dominion was but that hardly mattered. There were lots of gods she didn’t know the full dominions of. Persephone first thought the lady was the Goddess of Mortals. She lived amongst them, talked, wined and dined with them, attended to the trivialities of mortal bodies as if she had one, tilled land, harvested crops, made offerings in temples and prayed for guidance.

The Olympians paid her little heed, or rather when they did, it was with a respect they didn’t quite extend even towards their own. How else would Persephone think of her, when she strode into temples as regal as Athena herself, and spoke with the Goddess of Wisdom without the need for an oracle, as if they were old friends?

“There are very few things I can’t explain,” Demeter had told her one afternoon, after the lady had paid them a visit. It was a simple, rather domestic house call. She had inquired about Demeter’s well-being, imparted sincere condolences regarding her late husband which, to Persephone’s surprise, her mother had received with gratitude.

“But her existence is one of them.” Persephone wondered about Demeter’s fond smile towards the mysterious lady but realized what is was when she heard her next words.

“Hellas is her name,” said the Goddess of the Seasons. “She is Greece itself.”

\- - -

Hellas’ arrival is strangely unremarkable.

She arrives in Charon’s boat with other shades, stepping onto the House of Hades with a quiet grace absent in most souls post-mortem. She lines up to be signed in by Hypnos, oblivious to Persephone’s gasp of surprise and the inquiring eyebrow her husband directs toward the sound.

It had been interesting to realize, compared to denizens of the surface and beyond it, that the existence of Hellas holds little significance to the Chthonic gods, whom Persephone supposed hold dominions both embroiled and at the edges of human consciousness. Sleep, death, strife, magic, fate, night among others will persist with or without mortals perceiving themselves as belonging to the land they were born on.

But the presence of Hellas – her shade – here? Unease stirs in her gut. Persephone edges closer to Hypnos and his lists, even though she knows she needn’t. She is Queen of the Underworld and free to oversee the subjects and workings of her domain however she wishes.

_Hellas. Old age, war._

War?

Hypnos smiles at Hellas’ deceptively plain, classically beautiful face a second longer than he usually does, no doubt wondering why the shape of her soul hasn’t morphed into a blobby, post-mortem green. Before he can comment, Persephone calls her over.

“Hellas!”

“My Queen,” she greets.

Persephone pulls them both toward her usual spot by Cerberus, who acknowledges them with nothing more than a doggy huff. Hellas is clearly delighted, that and she looks like she’s barely reigning in her curiosity about the House, glancing up at the endless ceiling and all the fineries.

“Please Lady, Persephone will do. You…you are here.” She ignores the prickling feeling of Hades tuning in on their conversation, as well as Nyx’s curious gaze from her spot of power at the center of the House.

“I am,” says Hellas, smile beatific.

“But what—” Countries don’t die, do they? And war…have their people been so thoroughly ravaged that there is nowhere for them to belong to? Have cities been razed to the ground? “What of Greece?”

A strange question for those who are unfamiliar with the nature of nations. Persephone doesn’t doubt the attention of the House is on them now.

“My son will follow in my name.” For the first time since she arrived, Hellas looks troubled.

“Oh, you have a son.” She glances at her husband, who seems to have suspended court and is signing papers while waiting to be addressed. “Did he…?” Persephone only knows the ways of gods.

Hellas laughs. “Oh no, he didn’t kill me if that’s what you’re wondering. He might already have a sharp tongue on him and eye to curse someone for the next fifty years, but he can barely walk.”

Persephone’s hand presses against her chest as her mind conjures up an image of her own son – reconstructed from the endearingly large portrait of babysitting Cerberus at the West Hall and knowing him grown up with all his sweetness and earnest – how he must’ve looked like toddling within these very walls on unsteady feet.

“Oh, how small…”

“Yes.” Looking closer, there’s strain to Hellas’ regal shoulders and a worldly regret etched in the lines around her eyes. “He will be taken care of by the one whom he perceives to have killed me.” She then grimaces at the thought but shakes her head when Persephone reacts with more alarm. “Although if that bastard doesn’t take care of him, I’ll go up there and rip him a new one.”

This time, it’s Hades who catches his wife’s look at the absurd possibility of yet another belligerent escapee. His eyebrows are up when he clears his throat, but his expression is otherwise more curious than anything.

“I must inform you, Lady Hellas, that there is no escaping the Underworld.”

“Lord Hades,” Hellas bows in greeting, before moving to the center of the court, where no doubt the eyes of its many inhabitants are on her. “Thank you for welcoming me into your abode. While it is true that I have no intentions of escaping, there is a possibility that forces beyond my control or understanding will summon me up there in time.”

“When you speak of such forces, do you mean the Olympians?” he asks.

“Oh, not gods, my Lord, I meant people.”

Persephone smirks a little at the look of surprise that flits across on her husband’s face before he schools it into a serious expression. There were a handful of people who have the gumption to resist being intimidated by Hades, even more so now with Zagreus setting a terrible example. As sympathetic as she is to her husband’s concerns about maintaining a reputation, it’s still amusing to witness. Hellas is indeed a force of nature, in life and in death.

“Hades,” Persephone says, stepping beside her. “This is Lady Hellas. She has known me since I was a babe, and mother for possibly even longer.” She has to stifle a laugh as Hades looks even more surprised, having not known of any of this, oh dear. “She is all of Greece.”

“All of Greece?”

“A manifestation of the land,” Hellas says. “And the willingness of a people to identify themselves belonging to it, all in a human-shaped form with thoughts and feelings both my own and not. It’s quite troublesome.”

There is a burst of noise from shades and members of the House alike, tittering in speculation. Even the Great Warrior Achilles has unthinkingly left his post to step closer to the Main Hall, the look on his face a mix of awe and disbelief. Do the mortals know of their country? Persephone understands that not everyone was privy to the fact that Greece herself has walked among them. She's suddenly struck by how young Achilles looks, how young he was when he fell.

“Lady,” he begins, his usual soft-spoken cadence laced with a tremor belying a power it once held on the battlefield. “If you are here, then…what of Greece itself?”

Hellas’ teal eyes widen upon recognizing him, before her face softens into a smile. “Achilles.” No titles or formalities, just the pull of motherly affection that Persephone (and no doubt Nyx, judging by her rapt attention) feels a powerful sympathetic tug in her gut. “You look well.”

Achilles flushes, then glances at his feet, seemingly flustered. “I am, my Lady, thank you.”

Satisfied, Hellas continues. “And as I was saying to your Queen, I have a son. Greece yet lives.”

“But you said you were killed, who—what killed you?” Persephone asks, and hazards a guess, though she cannot imagine how other nations would manifest, being more familiar with a summation of their prowess in armies and their weaponry. “…was it Persia?”

“Hah! Well, the upstart used to be a part of the Persian Empire. He can claim he has killed me all he wants, and while I won’t dispute it, the truth is more complicated. I suspect he’s expanding into an empire of his own, Byzantion.”

Hellas then inclines her head toward Hades, equal parts respectful and rueful. “It’s going to be much quieter here, my Lord. There is only so much gods can do when people stop believing in them.”

A hush falls over the House of Hades. The shades are more familiar with what happens with the changing of the times – temples abandoned, new ones erected, festivals and other practices fading into obscurity while new ones rise to their place, cultural and technological advancements, a shift in beliefs and ruling power.

Persephone watches her husband carefully, waiting for how he would react to the oracle-like proclamation, prepared for outrage or offense. But he merely laughs – a booming “Hah!” and then, “Lady Hellas, you might have brought me good news. I never thought my work would ever end. If things do quiet down, we will finally be able to direct our attention to building a more suitable place of rest for those who are here for all eternity.”

 _Oh, I love him._ Persephone thinks absurdly, with her way her husband can still surprise her. Her mind jumps to the laundry list of things that need to be done within the Underworld’s various realms – from Zagreus’ security reports, building sufficient housing, reviewing the statute of limitations for all who have received sentences of some kind, to the seemingly gargantuan task of restoring the Asphodel Meadows. Yes, there will be much to keep them occupied in service of everyone who believed in them when they died, which, regardless of what the future holds, is still a staggering amount.

“My husband is right,” she says. “We will be busy for ages to come. Are you certain you will be alright here? What of your son?”

“It is the way of our kind. Even if my son were to grow up peaceful, for the very fact he exists means my time is up. I’ve asked the gods of Olympus to watch over him.”

“Shall we offer our services as well?” Nyx speaks for the first time since Hellas’ arrival. The lady turns to her with delight and gratitude.

“Oh, Mother Night, I would be most grateful…” Hellas trails off, gaze to the side.

“I sense hesitation in your assent.”

“Well, if I may speak plainly, I feel embarrassed to be asking for help. But I do worry for him. Even if I know these things happen to us nations, with the war I left behind, I fear he will have a difficult life.”

“We will do our best then,” Persephone reassures, gently placing her hand over a very browned arm. “To see to it that your son lives on, carrying the memory of you and all of us with him.” She wonders if her mother knows about Hellas’ death. She makes a note to consult Demeter and the rest of the pantheon about the best course of action once she returns to the surface for her customary visit.

Finally, Hellas nods, grateful. There is a gravity to the action, like the very air itself is listening. Nyx catches Persephone’s gaze and she understands that the Fates have either been called into play or have simply marked another course for inevitability.

Hades shuffles his paperwork. “Very well. Would you like residence at Elysium, Lady Hellas?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to worry about me, my Lord. If there are some vacancies in Asphodel, I won’t mind staying there. Although, I think I’d like to do bit of catching up.” Her warm teal eyes sweep around the court and all the curious shades.

And suddenly, Persephone can imagine it.

Mother Greece walking the fields of Elysium, Asphodel, and Tartarus, inquiring about each and every one of her children, their families, their lives while they lived or as much as they can remember of it, extending care to memories that deserve care, from all the heroes to all the wretches, calling them each by name.

**end**

**Author's Note:**

> there might be more if i feel like it. scenes i have in my head are snippets rather than anything with actual plot, mostly people and gods reacting to the fact there are personifications of nations, bc i like that sort of thing


End file.
